The Tears of the Singers

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “Jim! Jim! Are you all right? What happened?” McCoy gripped him by the shoulders, and there was a babble of confused voices all about him. Then the matriarch emitted a long piercing cry that went wailing up and down the tonal scale, and the song ceased. Silence fell over the silver-and-crystal world of the Singers. For the first time in three thousand years there was quiet. The only sounds were the hiss and boom of the waves on the beach, the sigh of the wind through the rock cliffs and the sound of a woman crying.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kirk set McCoy aside, and moved to Uhura. She had slid off of the synthesizer bench, and was now sitting in the sand with Maslin cradled in her arms. The composer’s face was a pale waxy white, and the air rattled in his throat with each breath he drew.

  McCoy came barreling-past Kirk, and ran his tricorder over Maslin’s prone body. He then looked up at Kirk, and gave a small shake of his head.

  “Can you do anything for him?” the captain asked quietly.

  “Make him comfortable, maybe try a few tricks, but it’s doubtful,” McCoy replied in the same low tone. “Let me get him back to the ship.”

  “No.” The single word was very weak, and followed by a paroxysm of coughing, but it still held a vestige of Maslin’s old command. The composer drew back his lips in a travesty of a smile, and looked up at Kirk. “No,” he said again. “This seems a very good place for a musician to die.”

  “Guy, no,” Uhura whispered, and her face was a mask of agony.

  Kirk suddenly became aware of the curiously watching security team that had accompanied him down from the Enterprise. “Thomas,” he snapped to their leader. “Take your team, and track down those last Klingon mutineers.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “You go with them,” Kor said suddenly to his own guards, and waved them away.

  “Don’t cry, my heart,” Guy was saying to Uhura when Kirk returned his attention to the couple. “Life is very rarely as we wish it to be.”

  “If only you hadn’t come,” Uhura cried, and her words were like a whip to Kirk’s already sensitive nerves. He braced himself for Maslin’s reply.

  “And if I hadn’t come I would never have known you.” He took one of her hands, and lifted it weakly to his lips. “Also,” he paused, and for an instant an expression of almost transported joy crossed his face. “I wrote my greatest piece here. This time my music really did speak to the heavens.”

  “Oh, Guy—” The whistle of a communicator cut through her words.

  “Kirk here.”

  “Scotty, Captain. Just wanted to report that the phenomenon has vanished, as well as the subspace harmonic that was wreckin’ the dilithium crystals.”

  “Very good, Mr. Scott. Secure the ship, and wait for my call.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “So, Kirk, we did it,” Maslin gasped painfully.

  “I would say rather that you did it.”

  “What’s this? Modesty from the great captain of the Enterprise?” Maslin said with a touch of his old raillery. “Come, come, Kirk, don’t ruin my image of you.”

  The captain dropped down on one knee next to the dying composer. “You ruined my image of you,” he said, taking one of Maslin’s limp hands. “And I want you to know that I’m sorry. I never intended it to end this way—”

  “Please, Kirk, don’t become maudlin,” he said with an impatient gesture. He cast the captain an ironic look. “Besides, it is true, what you once said: Some things are worth more than our own selfish little lives. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss the Taygetians.” The cub who had been Guy’s constant companion seemed to sense that something was happening for he suddenly flopped forward, and placed his head beneath Guy’s hand.

  The composer’s lashes fluttered down onto his cheeks, and McCoy once more stepped forward. “Come on, Jim, let me take him back to the ship.”

  “No.” This time it was Uhura who spoke. “Honor his wishes. If he must die at least let it be here.”

  “That’s it, Madam Star Fleet, you tell them,” Guy rasped out, and managed once more to open his eyes. He studied her face, and slowly smiled. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

  “Not enough times,” Uhura said with a catch in her voice.

  Kali suddenly spread open her arms, and shooed the circle of watchers away the way a housewife would herd a flock of recalcitrant chickens.

  “That’s our Kali, ever sensitive,” Guy murmured faintly, and Uhura saw that his green eyes were beginning to wander unfocusedly.

  “Guy, don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t. We’ve … learned that much … haven’t we? I’ll … be close … always,” he murmured disjointedly. “Best I go. Otherwise … you might not become a … captain. Show them all how it’s done, love….”

  Uhura gently closed his eyes, and then from all around her the cubs began a sorrowful, minor-key lament. The small cub who had lain with his head beneath Guy’s hand suddenly lifted his head and, looking directly at Uhura, shed a single sparkling blue tear. Reaching out she caught it on the palm of her hand, but instead of spattering in salty rivulets it lay smooth and cool on her skin.

  And now the tears came. Hot and violent they ran down her face as she sat bowed over the body of her love.

  “So this is it then,” Kor said as he, Kali, Kirk and Spock walked through the corridors of the Enterprise toward the transporter room. “Once more we are denied our warriors’ duel.”

  “Now don’t blame me for that,” Kirk said, holding up a restraining hand. “As I see it you’re the one who opted not to fight, but rather to work together.”

  “And we did pretty well, didn’t we?” Kor asked with a grin.

  “Yes, I think we did. So, what do you do now?”

  “Go home and face the music—please forgive the pun.”

  “Will it be bad?”

  “I hope not. After all, Kali and I will have several weeks in which to concoct a story that will make it appear that we emerged victorious while you slunk away with your tail between your legs.”

  Kirk raised a hand and covered his eyes. “Oh my reputation, my poor battered reputation,” he moaned.

  “Your damn reputation doesn’t need any further inflation,” Kor stated bluntly. “You’re already a damn living legend.” Kirk looked sheepish. “And furthermore, I once again have to leave the field to you.”

  “Fortunes of war.”

  “But this time it wasn’t a war. Think about it, Kirk, this time we stopped fighting ourselves; it didn’t take the Organians to stop us.”

  “So, maybe we are all becoming wiser,” Kali said.

  “Unfortunately we are only two ships,” Spock said dampeningly. “Your Empire and our Federation are still standing eye to eye and toe to toe on many fronts.”

  “Don’t be negative, Spock,” she said, making a face at the Vulcan. “I am not saying we have solved all the problems, but we have at least demonstrated that it can happen.”

  “Speaking of problems,” Kor said with a hesitant clearing of his throat. “Once you get the three Taygetian ambassadors back to the Federation, and formal relations are established, I don’t suppose we could borrow a few of them to improve some of our problem worlds?”

  “You head the trade delegation to Earth, and I’ll be there to assure that it works out.”

  “All right. It is a deal.” They had reached the transporter room, and the foursome paused at the base of the platform for their final leave-taking.

  “I won’t say good-bye, but rather farewell, for I think we will be meeting again,” Kor said, gripping Kirk by the upper arms.

  “I hope so, Commander. And about the matter of the Taygetians, you get the changes made so that there can be trade between our people, and I’ll see to it that you get what you want.”

  “Your hand on it?”

  “My hand on it.”

  “You realize what you are asking me to do, don’t you, Kirk,” Kor said as they shook. “You are asking me to take over the halls o
f power, and redirect our Empire.”

  “Commander, if there’s any man who can do it, I think it’s you. I would say that you’re well on your way to being a living legend too.”

  “Captain, please,” Kali said, placing her hands in the middle of Kor’s back, and pushing him toward the platform. “He is already vain enough. Please don’t add to it.”

  “Ah, but my darling, I will always have you there to deflate my ego, so all will be well.”

  “As if I have ever tried to diminish you!” Kali gasped angrily. “Why you—” she began, but Kor picked her up in his arms, and pressed a firm kiss on her lips to silence her.

  “And that is how you handle women,” he said with a wink to Kirk as he deposited his wife on one of the transporter disks. “And now, farewell until the next time.”

  “Good-bye, Commander,” Kirk said, lifting one hand.

  “You better hope you’re still alive by then,” Kali said threateningly to her husband as the transporter took them.

  “A highly volatile people,” Spock remarked when the platform was clear.

  “Yes, Mr. Spock, but I like them.”

  “I have also never understood human taste,” the Vulcan added dryly as he and the captain walked out of the transporter room.

  “I suppose it’s a case of like to like.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  They walked in silence to the turbolift, and Kirk called for the bridge. “Well, we have quite a load of passengers for the trip back, what with the Taygetians and the hunters.”

  “Yes, but it is unfortunate that we could not return with our original passenger.”

  “Yes,” Kirk agreed, and fell into a thoughtful silence as he considered the simple burial ceremony that he had conducted for Maslin on the shores of that silver sea. “But no man ever had such a requiem mass sung for him.”

  “Yes, he would have enjoyed it.”

  Kirk stood silent for several more moments then abruptly asked, “Do you think Uhura is going to be all right?”

  “Given my lack of understanding of human emotions, Captain, I am perhaps not the best person to ask. Dr. McCoy considers himself a delver into the secrets of men’s souls. You might better direct your question to him.”

  Kirk grunted a reply as the doors of the turbo lift whoosed open. The bridge was humming with quiet activity, and the captain stood for a moment at the top of the steps reveling in the familiar sights and sounds. All of his number-one bridge crew was in place, Sulu at the helm, Scotty at the engineering console, Uhura on communications and Spock moving smoothly to his place at science. It felt good to have them all back, and Kirk realized that be had missed the comfort of their familiar presences. He hoped there would never again be an occasion when he would be left isolated aboard his ship.

  Settling into his command chair, he half turned so he could study Uhura’s face. In the days since Maslin’s death she had been very quiet, frighteningly quiet, and her usually serene and gentle expression had been replaced with an indecipherable mask.

  She reached up to adjust the monitor in her ear, and the motion set something at her breast to swinging. Kirk looked closer, and saw that she was wearing a crystal tear. It spun and sparkled like frozen blue fire on the end of its chain. Kirk shivered slightly, and wondered how she could wear the thing. He would have thought the memories it roused would have been too painful.

  He continued to stare mesmerized at the jewel. How strange, he thought, that something so small could have been at the heart of their entire mission.

  “From out of the greed of men,” he murmured to himself.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?” Uhura asked, swinging around in her seat.

  “Just thinking aloud, Lieutenant.”

  She regarded him thoughtfully for several moments, then said, “I wear it as a reminder, sir.”

  Kirk started a bit, and wondered if her continuing close contact with the highly telepathic Taygetians was rousing some dormant esper powers within her. He shook off his unease and, rising, moved to her side.

  “I had wondered,” he said quietly, leaning in on her. “But wouldn’t it perhaps be better to put this behind you, and try to forget?”

  “Grief and loss aren’t necessarily bad things, Captain,” she replied in a low tone. “Oftentimes we grow as the result of such experiences.” She lifted the gem and, allowing the chain to slide through her slender fingers, watched the tear flicker and sparkle in the air between them. “Besides, this is a crystal tear, one of the tears of the Singers….” She lifted her head, and looked into his eyes. “I consider that somehow appropriate.”

  He gripped her hand and gave it a hard squeeze before returning to his position in the command chair. He took one last look around the bridge, then nodded in satisfaction.

  “Mr. Sulu, set a course for Starbase 23. Warp factor three.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  The muted roar of the engines rose in intensity, and Taygeta, cloud-wrapped and mysterious, dwindled and fell away behind them. For one brief instant he heard a chorus of farewell echoing in the corridors of his mind, then it was gone as the Enterprise leaped beyond range of the Singers. He would probably never hear their music again, but someday, with the help of the three Taygetians who traveled with them, a multitude of worlds would ring with their particular brand of music that sang to the spheres.

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